Twelve Steps
by Fanwoman
Summary: This is a series of tags and missing scenes, one for each episode of the second series. They vary from light to dark and focus directly and tangentally on the personal impact of the episodes' main plotlines. DianaMarco
1. Potential

NOTES: Motivated by fans of other shows who've done this sort of thing, I've decided to do a series of little tags/missing scenes with Diana/Marco leanings for each episode. Some are light; some are dark. Some are from Diana's POV, others from Marco's. I'd like to think all of them fall within the realms of possibility. I'll be posting one a day, leading up to the start of season 3 in the US. This one was inspired by the umbrella scene; I know I'm not the only one who has looked back on it with fondness.

SPOILERS: through Wake Up Call

DISCLAIMER: _The 4400_ and all things associated with it belong to other people.

* * *

TWELVE STEPS

STEP 1: POTENTIAL

It was was a stormy morning and her turn to buy coffee, so his arriving before her was to be expected, not that he minded waiting.

Leaning against his fender, he smiled as she pulled her rain-slicked sedan smoothly into the spot next to him. Levering himself up, he opened her door.

"Hey, Marco." Offering him a quick grin, she reached for her briefcase and a little, recycled cardboard carrying case from the local cafe.

"'Morning, Diana." Although it had been nearly a year since she'd insisted on his using it, he still relished addressing her by her first name. Taking the proffered coffee cup case, he resisted the urge to offer her his hand as she rose from her seat. His mother had trained him to do so, but Marco was fairly certain his coworker wouldn't appreciate the gesture. Diana was nothing if not independent.

"I forgot to ask you something yesterday." She also had a tendency to be direct, which he found charming. Sadly, it was the reason he was so uncertain as to whether or not she had any romantic interest in him, though he wasn't about to stop seeking some.

"Shoot." After he passed her cup over, he took his own and folded the case into his pocket for later recycling.

In the middle of his first sip, she asked, "What are you doing for lunch?"

Naturally, he choked.

"You okay?" She gave him a look that was a combination of concern and amusement.

It was the amusement that made him briefly wonder if she'd intentionally timed her question for just such an effect. "Just...swallowed wrong."

Her gaze suggested she wasn't so sure about that, but she didn't comment on it as they made their way from the garage to the basement elevator. "Well, Tom and I are going back to Abendson, and I thought you should come along to take a look at that tower." She didn't elaborate as to why Abendson nor what tower, an expression of her certainty that he was aware of the details of her case.

Marco cleared his throat of the last of his inhaled coffee. "Got it. So does that mean I should grab lunch early?"

"Yeah. Wait 'til you see this thing, Marco." Full of enthusiasm, she pressed her thumb against the elevator's security pad with vigorous tap. "It's amazing, and it really seems like it's..._something_."

"I look forward to seeing it. Meet you down here around...?"

The doors opened with a ding. "Let's say ten to twelve."

"I'll be here." He had to work to not grin like an idiot.

The doors closed between them, and he practically skipped down the hall to the Theory Room. A road trip with Diana! Despite the weather, he was sure it was going to be a good day.

Usually the first to arrive, Marco was surprised to find the door was already open.

"Marco." Brady's disembodied voice floated across the room in greeting. Despite being hidden from view by his computer screen, Brady didn't have to look to know who was there so early.

"Brady." Setting down his coffee, Marco was surfing the internet before he was fully seated. With a few clicks of his mouse, he learned the weather around the hospital was supposed to be drizzly all day.

"Hey, Brady."

"Yeah?" A gaunt, bespectacled face poked around the side of a monitor.

"You still have that umbrella in your trunk?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"Mind if I borrow it?"

"Did yours break?"

"No."

"So why do you want to borrow mine?" His coworker's gaze grew suspicious.

There was no point hiding the truth; the others would find out eventually. "I'm going to Abendson with Diana and Tom."

The wicked gleam in Brady's eyes told him his friend had figured out his motives--they often dried their umbrellas in the hall, and Marco's was a collapsible only suitable for a single person. Despite thinking him a fool for setting his sites on what the others generally considered unattainable heights, Brady didn't begrudge his fellow geek for trying. Nodding, the older man fished out his car keys and tossed them to Marco. "It's on the left side. You might want to air it out."

"Thanks, Brady."

"Sure thing. Just tell us what it's like when you get back."

Unsure if Brady was referring to the tower or sharing an umbrella with Diana, Marco took off for the garage. Even when an agent coming down the hall gave him a weird look, he couldn't hide his big, happy smile.


	2. Listening

NOTES: I consider NTAC and the government dismissing the rights of the Gary Navarro for their own purposes a foreshadowing of the events of The Fifth Page and Mommy's Bosses. I loved how vexed yet helpless our heroic agents were at the end. That final crane shot, with Diana so small and alone on the edge of the loading zone...it said so much without saying a word.

SPOILERS: through Voices Carry

DISCLAIMER: _The 4400_ and all things associated with it belong to other people.

* * *

TWELVE STEPS 

STEP 2: LISTENING

He was brushing his teeth when he heard his phone. Only one person called him on his cell so late at night. Hastily rinsing his mouth, he answered by the third ring.

"Hey, Diana." Some part of him was pleased he could sound casual when he'd just been so rushed. He had learned early on that being casual with her often drew out more than inquisitiveness did; it allowed her the freedom to come to her thoughts in her own time, without any pressure.

"Hey, Marco." Her voice was taut. "Got a minute?" Normally she would never ask such a thing. After all, there weren't many who could follow her thinking when she came up with ideas like applying the concepts of disease vectors and gravity wells to humans, so she always assumed permission and interest. If she felt the need to ask, something must have happened to shake her confidence.

"Sure thing."

"Did you hear what they did with Navarro?"

Her cryptic tone made his stomach clench as he sat on his bed. "Other than stick a transmitter in him and send him to The Center?"

"Yeah."

He resisted the urge to ask about it directly. "No."

The ensuing silence was much longer than any natural, conversational pause. People didn't call to not talk, and that went double for the straightforward Diana. Contemplating what might have happened to evoke such a reaction in her caused his pulse to pick up a notch. What had they done to that poor ballplayer? A dozen different ideas came to mind, any of which would cause Diana distress. She had a strong sense of justice, right and wrong, responsibility; that's why she agonized over parental decisions. While she might have insecurities regarding motherhood, adopting Maia had been voluntary, new territory, personal. Gary Navarro was all about work. Marco knew that at NTAC and the DHS, she'd felt in control; the right decisions had always been clear to her. That sense of doing the right thing was one of the factors of the job that was so appealing to most agents--inspiring the will to work long hours, risk their lives, give their all--but it meant more to her. It was a central aspect of her character, her identity. She and Tom had felt bad enough about sending Gary to The Center to spy on Collier. Despite the potential danger, Marco had been under the impression things had gone well enough. So whatever had happened to make her like this, it had to involve NTAC, not The Center.

He was about to pull his phone from his ear to check for signal when she spoke again. "They Shanghaied him." She said it heatedly yet hushed, a vocal expression of her internal conflict, and his heart sank, both for Diana and for Gary.

Again, he held back, though all the obvious questions were on the tip of his tongue--Who? When? Why? How could they? What could be done about it? Oddly, the words that fell from his mouth were, "I'm sorry." He certainly felt sorry, but saying so hardly offered her the empathy and encouragement he'd wanted to express.

"Why are you sorry?"

"Maybe, if I'd known..."

"Then you'd have done _what_?" There was more than a hint of accusation. Gary had been her responsibility. If she'd thought she'd needed Marco's help, she would have asked. To indirectly suggest otherwise cast doubt on her abilities. "Would you have gone against the federal government, spirited him away, made him a fugitive, driven him nuts being separated from his drugs? You're just _one_ person. _What could you have done?_"

Closing his eyes, he let the sting of her words pass through him. He knew she wasn't really mad at him; she might as well have been asking herself those questions. Being helpless, unempowered, betrayed by authority--these were not scenarios she handled well. He remembered how she'd reacted when he'd asked about Tom's son after the Highland Beach incident that had landed Tom behind a desk for a year. All her feelings about agents abducting Tom's son, then _shooting_ him, then sticking him in a box to examine him like a bug, then losing Tom as her partner had been channeled into anger, which was the primary reason she'd lost her second partner so quickly. With Gary's loss so fresh, Marco was as likely a target as anyone. She was just misplacing her anger...better him than Maia.

"I probably couldn't have done anything," he answered honestly, stepping out of his role as her neutral sounding board and letting the depth of his feelings into his voice. "But...I just wish I could have done something."

Apparently his tone had some impact; her next words were calmer, more subdued. "So do I."

"We all have bad days..."

There was a derisive snort. "I think this goes beyond a 'bad day.'"

"You're NTAC's top agent and get the toughest jobs," he continued. "You risk more, so it's only natural your bad days would be worse than anyone else's."

"You almost make it sound like it's okay, just par for the course."

"It's not. But like you said, what could anyone have done?" There was a pause, as if she were weighing what to say next. Perhaps she needed more time to talk this through. "I could come over..."

"I probably woke you up as it is."

Refusing to let her feel guilty about anything on his account, he asked lightly, "Did it _sound_ like you woke me up?"

"No...I guess not." Her tone was thoughtful. He could imagine the hint of a smile on her lips.

"It would be no trouble."

"I..." Suddenly she was uncomfortable. "I have company."

At such a late hour? In the middle of the week? While his rational self was confident there was a reasonable explanation, his emotional self was hurt. Some of that must have leaked through his monosyllabic response. "Oh."

"It's my sister." She sounded mollifying and embarrassed all at once.

Why would she be embarrassed?

"Oh." The possibility that she didn't want him thinking the wrong thing pleased him. "We could always meet at that cafe on the corner."

"The last thing I need right now is coffee." She laughed awkwardly. The place served decaf drinks, but he knew it was her way of saying she wasn't interested.

"Maybe next time, then."

"Yeah." There was a quiet, meditative quality to the word.

In the pause that followed, he could tell from the change in background noises that she'd gotten off the freeway. She was probably close to home, so he broke the silence for her with a potential end to their conversation.

"Well, I...guess I'll see you tomorrow."

"Yeah...thanks." She almost sounded back to normal.

"Any time."

"Good night, Marco."

"Good night, Diana."

He sat, staring at his disconnected cell phone for a few minutes, reviewing their conversation. Had she meant it? Had she, even for a moment, seriously considered breaking with the will of the government to do what was right? Then again, when you were as logical and just as Diana, how did you rationalize working for an entity that no longer reflected the ideals that had drawn you to it in the first place? Worse, what if it was working in direct conflict with those ideals? The DHS was supposed to safeguard the lives and freedoms of its citizens, NTAC to protect and serve the 4400, but the government had done nothing short of abduct Gary. If they were willing to press one 4400 into service, what was there to say they wouldn't do the same with others? Had Diana considered what might happen if they learned Maia was still having visions? If she had been willing to hack into her superior's computer, drug a military guard and run from the authorities for Tom's kid, what might she do for her own? More importantly, what was he willing to do for her? It frustrated him to be unable to help. Then again, he was the one she'd called to talk to about this, and she'd seemed to be in a better mood when they'd hung up. He might not have been able to do anything for Gary, but perhaps he had managed to be useful to Diana, if only in a small way.

There was too much to think about and no hope of getting to bed any time soon. Checking the time on his cell, it was quarter to eleven. His building's gym closed at midnight. Opening his closet, he grabbed his sweatpants off the floor and pulled the T-shirt he'd worn that day out of the top of his laundry basket. If his body was tired enough, his brain might follow it into sleep. It was a tactic that worked about half the time, so it was always worth a shot.

He snagged an antacid and bottle of water from the kitchen then clipped on his iPod and the spare door key with the gym access sensor attached. Slipping in his earbuds, he started playing his instrumental jazz selection before he'd even walked out the door. It was soothing yet still encouraged exercise, but best of all, there were no words. It wasn't often he got to say good night to Diana, least of all so close to actually falling asleep. The hopeful romantic in him insisted those be the last words he say, that her bidding him good night be the last words he hear that night. It was only right some small good came of the day.


	3. Understanding

NOTES: "Well, I asked the guys downstairs..." At the end of Weight of the World, Marco gets to play the ripple-theory guy, but during the episode, he and the other TRGs were a part of the solution to the crisis, even if we didn't see it.

SPOILERS: through Weight of the World

DISCLAIMER: The 4400 and all things associated with it belong to other people.

* * *

TWELVE STEPS 

STEP 3: UNDERSTANDING

Sometimes, she just wanted to smack Tom. No matter how seasoned a field agent, no matter how central he was to the whole 4400 situation, he could be infuriatingly inflexible and unabashedly hypocritical. She had risked her career to help him and his son, but forget about his being remotely sympathetic to _her_ family's problems. Self-centered jackass.

As infuriating as Tom could be, it was even more vexing how this most recent case had transformed from a legal curiosity to a medical emergency in a matter of days, all because of vanity, impatience and greed. Empathy had never been one of her strong suits, but she couldn't help empathizing with Mr. Appelbaum. He was a single parent trying to do what was best for his daughter in a life that had been knocked sideways by the 4400 experience. Now, because of what had been done to him, his child's life was in jeopardy, along with the lives of a hundred others.

The scientist in her refused to accept that there was no solution. If Appelbaum's protein was creating a deadly chemical reaction, there had to be a way of undoing it. After all, how was it he, himself, was not affected? But time was of the essence. While she was confident her germ of an idea could come to fruition, she needed more fertile grounds than her mind alone could produce, at least if she wanted an answer before all those people died. So she headed to the basement, to the only place she was certain sharing her ideas would cause them to flourish.

She opened the door to the Theory Room and was greeted by the scent of coffee and Chinese food. "Hey, guys. I need your help with something."

All heads turned, and Marco rose to his feet in a smooth, unhurried motion. Pulling out a chair from the the room's central table, he gestured to it. "Have a seat."

"This about Appelbaum?" asked Brady from his half-hidden desk. The sound of typing was followed by the bald salesman's file popping onto the projection monitor that other departments envied.

"Yeah, I have an idea."

Lee pulled up his chair to the table to listen more closely, absently tossing an empty food carton into the nearest trashcan. Marco leaned against his desk, gripping the edge. One curled finger was the only sign he felt any tension about this particular issue.

"We've been looking at this like some sort of cascade, biochemical change, a process that, once begun, can't be undone." Without having to ask, the image on the screen changed to Appelbaum's lab results. "But what if we look at his protein like an invading virus?"

"...and create an antigen," concluded Marco with a nod.

P.J. stepped from his desk to take the extra seat at the table. "But how do you create an antigen for a protein that kills every organism it inhabits?"

"Except Appelbaum," added Lee.

"Except Appelbaum," she agreed. "My thinking is we create the antigen in an artificial setting, without using any animals. Besides, animal testing would take too long. If we skip that, the focus can be on the immediate reaction to individual organic components, not the overall effect. It's only natural that something has to be able to fight this off. By seeing how it works in a controlled environment, we can isolate and encourage it." She looked around at the thoughtful faces of the others. "What do you think?"

Lee laughed. "You're top dog for a reason, Skouris."

"There's only one problem." Brady electronically flipped to a particular page of Appelbaum's file. "The protein comes from his liver."

Marco grimaced. "So that means..."

"We'd have to harvest some." Diana rubbed her palms on her knees to wipe the sweat off.

"More than some." P.J. twiddled a pen absently between his fingers. "Less than a day, enough for a hundred people...I'm thinking _all_ of it."

"He'll need a replacement." Marco pushed himself off his desk to hover behind Brady, pointing at something on his colleague's monitor that only they could see. "We already have his stats. Get NTAC medical on this. Make sure they know it has top priority."

"First you have to get him to agree," P.J. pointed out.

Marco gave the larger man a look. Although mild, coming from Marco it was practically a glare. "His daughter's life is at stake. I don't think it'll be a tough sell."

"There's always Jarvis," observed Lee.

"If this could save a hundred people, she'll do whatever it takes." Diana stood up from her chair, eager to pass the idea by her superior and partner. "Thanks, guys."

She left to a chorus of "good luck"s but was only a few feet from their door when she heard footsteps behind her. There was no need to turn to know who it was.

"Diana."

"Yes?"

"You seem...a little stressed."

Glancing at Marco, she saw a subtle concern in his eyes. "Perhaps because a hundred people's lives hang in the balance of my ideas?"

"Not that." It was a statement, but there was a question to it.

The insightful observation caused her to pause, thumb poised over the elevator's security scanner. How could he tell there was more? She lowered her hand and turned to him.

"I told Tom about Maia."

"Oh." He stuck his hands in his pockets with a sympathetic smile. "Didn't go as planned, huh?"

"You could put it that way." Absently shifting from foot to foot, she glanced away from him as she tried to control the bile the recollection inspired. "He thought I should tell Nina. Worse, he had the gall to be self-righteous about it, saying we're even for the time he didn't tell me about Shawn."

"Well...he does have a point." Marco shrugged.

"You agree with him?" The incredulity in her voice was obvious.

"I think Maia's diary is your business and no one else's." He pulled out a hand to gesture with. "I also think he has no right to cop an attitude, especially not after all you've done for him and Kyle. But you did keep this from him, and...it sounds like he's taken it personally. I'd guess he feels the same way you did when he told you about his nephew."

She almost gaped at him. He made it sound so simple. How is it he could see things so clearly? How could he be so nice about the guy, given how poorly Tom usually treated him?

"He's not going to tell Nina, right?"

"Of course not."

He gave her another shrug. "Tom is Tom." Then he smiled. "You're the one who wanted him back in the field, and it's better that he is. I know; I researched the recommendation. Can you imagine doing this with Vic?"

And just like that, she let go of her vexation and smiled.

With a nod, he reached past her to thumb the sensor. "Good luck with Appelbaum. Let us know how it goes."

"Yeah." She stepped into the elevator and turned to see Marco wave goodbye. He'd come through for her, again, and she wondered, not for the first time, how it was she'd grown to rely on him so much. After all, she'd confided in him about Maia's diary months before her own partner. But she had a plan to implement and lives to save. Such contemplation could wait for another day.


	4. Sharing

NOTES: "It's the first time I've spent the night away from Maia."

SPOILERS: through Suffer the Children

DISCLAIMER: _The 4400_ and all things associated with it belong to other people.

* * *

TWELVE STEPS 

STEP 4: SHARING

It was quarter to ten in the enchanting town of Fairview, and Diana had already used the hotel gym until her calves ached, showered, set out her clothes for the next day, called Maia to tell her good night and checked on her sister at the same time. Having just FTPed her day's report to NTAC, she surfed futilely through the few channels the hotel provided while checking on her email. She'd thought it a pointless task, given she'd checked her inbox just a few hours earlier, but there was one new piece of mail. It was from Marco's personal account. With a smile, she opened it.

_Fairview must be relaxing if you're ready to call it a night before ten._

_MP_

She noted that it had been sent just a minute earlier, and suddenly, she had an inspired cure for her boredom. Flicking off the TV, she quickly typed and sent a reply.

_It sure is, if you call being surrounded by a bunch of small-minded, hate-mongering Philistines relaxing._

_DS_

Her software noted an offer to chat, and she activated the program.

M: They can't all be small-minded, hate-mongering Philistines. The principal sounds like a decent guy.

D: I suppose, but if you could have just heard what some of the "unchanged" kids we interviewed said! Suddenly I feel much better about Maia being tutored at home instead of going to school.

M: It's normal for kids to be the mouthpieces of their parents, and a lack of exposure to Philistines now won't protect Maia from them later or make it any easier for her to deal with them.

His reply made her snort.

D: How reassuring.

M: If you'd wanted reassurance, you should have said so. Children eventually grow up and usually become their own people. Speaking of which, Maia's doing fine. No misadventures with food, perfect scores on math.

That she wasn't expecting. After what she'd told him about April, was he worried about Maia?

D: I know. But how do you?

M: I called to see if you were back and chatted with her. She really has a knack for math. It amazes me to think she grew up in an era when girls were discouraged from learning math and science.

D: Being on this case has got me thinking about how she isn't getting any formal arts training.

She was still in awe of Michael Ross' violin performance.

M: She draws and writes, and you cook together.

D: Yeah, but what about music? I remember what a big deal it was, having the teacher come over, practicing every day, the satisfaction of getting a piece right. Did you take music lessons?

M: Piano and guitar.

Somehow, it didn't surprise her; he had nice hands. She'd always been a bit self-conscious about her hands, partially thanks to piano. No matter how hard she'd tried, she could never manage a one octave span.

D: Do you still play?

M: Yeah. Guitar, mostly. Olivia took mom's piano. Having it around made dad sad. Sometimes I play on Grandma Pacella's. A guitar is so much easier to move, and it's quiet enough the neighbors don't complain. You?

D: Not since I moved away from home.

M: Do you miss it?

D: Sometimes I did, especially early on. But science was always my real outlet. Music just made me feel like a grown-up, sophisticated.

M: You don't need a piano to make you grown-up or sophisticated.

She couldn't help but wonder if it was meant as a general statement or a comment about her. Either way, it made her smile.

D: Maybe not now...

M: You're thinking about piano lessons for Maia.

It amazed her how, even without seeing her face or hearing her voice, he knew what she was thinking.

D: She hasn't asked about it, but I think it would be good for her.

M: Piano wasn't a choice for me.

It hadn't been a choice for Diana, either, but that hadn't bothered her at the time.

D: Was that a good or bad thing?

M: Both. Neither. It's good for discipline, math, building bonds between the left and right brain, hand/eye coordination, and there are silent ones that won't disturb your neighbors. Olivia recommends the lady who comes to teach Gianna. Gianna likes her, too.

D: I was thinking I could take her to a teacher, instead, give her a chance to get out.

M: Working for NTAC might make it tough to keep a regular schedule without the teacher coming to you.

D: Tell me about it.

M: Would you rather talk?

D: Yeah, but reception here stinks. How is it we end up staying at the only hotel in Washington where you can't use a cell phone? Plus, I've already used my daily landline quota talking with Maia and April. I don't want to have to explain to Nina why I was calling you at 10pm on the government's dime.

M: Didn't realize she was such a bean counter.

D: That's because you basement dwellers never have any travel expenses.

M: You're just jealous because we have all the best toys.

It wasn't wholly untrue. That was one of the primary reasons field agents ever went down there, to use some of the equipment the theory room agents had been able to procure by skimping on venue and office supplies. When NTAC had been formed and given its own building, Marco had gotten his team to agree to taking the unappealing Intel Room 3 and keeping their old desks in order to afford some of their more impressive technology. He had argued to his team that they would have more privacy and peace and to Nina that the limited space would restrict the growth of his department and utilize an undesirable corner of the facility. Nina had had no qualms about their decorating the place as they saw fit, so Marco and the rest had transformed the cold concrete tomb into a lively, almost fun little space.

D: Sometimes, I wish I was down there with you, instead of out here, dealing with things like this.

M: But you're so good it.

She knew he ment it sincerely, not as flattery.

D: Maybe, but it that doesn't make me feel any better about having to deal with cases like this. I swear, half the reason she's in this situation is because the parents are holding grudges against her from when she taught them as kids.

M: At least you get to directly affect results. Half the time, I feel like no one listens to us, and I know most of the rest of NTAC doesn't know what to really do with us. If it weren't for you, all we'd do is crunch numbers and datamine.

D: Miss me?

M: Always.

It was one just word on a computer screen, so why had her heart skipped a beat? Whether casually written, a late-night confession, a flirtatious suggestion or a calculated response, she couldn't be sure, but it caused her pulse to speed up. Maybe she was just tired and that was affecting her responses. She didn't want to think it was more, at least not tonight.

D: I've got an early day, tomorrow.

M: Yeah. I hear Ms. Tobey is going back to the classroom, and you and Tom will be forcing the fine folks of Fairview to do the right thing. Good luck with that.

D: Thanks. Same time tomorrow?

She couldn't talk like this to Tom; he was uniquely unsympathetic. Being stuck four hours from home with no one to discuss the more personal aspects of work had made her really appreciate her daily discussions with Marco. The promise of another chat gave her something to look forward to other than the guilt of saying good night to her daughter over the phone.

M: Count on it.

D: Good night.

M: Good night.


	5. Caring

NOTES: I know, other than the "next time I'm over" line in WuC, there's been zero on the show to suggest Marco and Maia interact, but I find it difficult, if not impossible, to believe anyone so intent on winning over Diana's heart would neglect winning over Maia's as well. So my thinking that Marco would worry about Maia--and, through association, Diana dealing with Maia--is the inspiration for this one. After all, this episode began with quite a fright for Maia.

SPOILERS: through As Fate Would Have It

DISCLAIMER: _The 4400_ and all things associated with it belong to other people.

* * *

TWELVE STEPS 

STEP 5: CARING

The meeting was over, and it seemed to Diana that the only thing it had achieved was to reveal the truth about Maia's visions. Nina hadn't said anything directly accusatory, but her tone and subtext had more than adequately conveyed her displeasure. It was aggravating to be stuck like this--torn between looking out for the interests of her job and those of her daughter. Despite her best intentions, she'd managed to do neither. All she could do was hope Tom was right, and that warning Collier, trying to protect him, would somehow be enough. After all, what point was there to Maia having to suffer with such horrible visions if nothing could be done about them?

Following Tom from the Theory Room, she was almost to the door when Marco spoke up.

"Diana, do you have a minute?"

The last thing she wanted to do at the moment was head back upstairs and sit across from a gloating Tom; he'd been telling her it was a matter of time before Maia had a vision Diana would have to tell Nina about. Her partner turned with a slight frown and a disapproving look in his eye, but he said nothing. Given all the "brains in the basement" had contributed to their cases and Tom's return to field duty, she would never understand his policy of contempt for Marco and his colleagues. It made her want to stay all the more.

She did her best not to glare at Tom. "Sure." To further exclude her partner, she closed the door behind him before turning back. "What have you got?" There were several pet projects she had Marco's department working on for her. Hearing about any of them would be a welcome distraction.

Marco seemed hesitant, absently tossing the mini basketball he'd fiddled with throughout the meeting. "I was wondering...when did Maia have this one?"

Maybe it was Tom's attitude souring her overall mood, but it irked her to have to deal with another coworker who felt put out by her not keeping him informed about every detail of her daughter's precognizant curse. That it came from Marco was doubly vexing; he was supposed to be the one she went to to escape that kind of nonsense. "Last night. Why?" Her tone was tight, and he cringed in response.

Setting the ball aside, he held up his hands. "Didn't mean to pry. I just..." Turning his gaze to the floor, he lowered his hands to grip the edge of the desk he was leaning against. "It can't be easy to see a thing like that, especially if you're a kid." He shrugged. "I just wanted to ask how she's doing, if she's okay."

It was as though the world abruptly turned 90 degrees--everything fit into place, again. She wanted to curse herself for a fool. It wasn't in her nature to apologize for her behavior, so she gave him honesty instead. "She seemed okay this morning, but last night...she was crying." With the softening of her voice, he looked up, concern in his eyes. "She couldn't stop crying. It was like she somehow blamed herself."

"How can she...?"

Shrugging, Diana moved to join him in leaning against the desk. It made her feel more comfortable, as if being side by side made them in harmony instead of the unconscious conflict implicit in facing each other. "It's as though she thinks, by seeing these things, she makes them happen."

"Have you talked to her about it?"

Diana nodded and glanced across his face. As usual, he was attentively watching her eyes. This morning, for some reason, it made her self-conscious and aware of their proximity, but he didn't seem to notice. Looking away, she explained, "She says she knows it's not her fault, but she still seems to feel guilt about it, like it's a left-brain verses right-brain kind of thing."

"What are you going to do?"

"Everything I can to keep her vision from becoming a reality," she answered with grim determination.

"To do that, you had no choice but to reveal that Maia's still having visions."

It didn't surprise her that he saw the true source of her aggravation. "Yeah."

"If there's anything I can do to help..."

Looking up, she met his gaze and saw the sincerity shining in his big, brown eyes. Tom occasionally intimated that she took advantage of Marco because the head of the Theory Room had a crush on her. But what she saw in Marco's eyes was too deep for a mere crush, and for once, it didn't make her feel uncomfortable.

"Thanks..."

The sound of tapping against glass caused them to look up. The other Theory Room regulars had returned from their Nina-imposed break and were wearing various disgruntled expressions. Apparently, Diana had unintentionally locked the door when she'd closed it.

"Guess I should let them back in," she laughed, pushing herself off the desk.

"Aw, let 'em wait." His tone was teasing. "I knew I should have closed the blinds."

Glancing back, she gave him a wink. "It wouldn't have done you any good." Opening the door, she stepped aside to let the others in. "Didn't mean to lock you out, guys."

They filed in, muttered greetings to her and disparaging comments to Marco. He shrugged them off and met her at the door. "Good luck, Diana. Let me know how it goes."

Normally, he never asked anything of her, presumably assuming she'd fill him in on what she deemed necessary, but she sensed this was a personal request, not a professional one. Somehow, the difference didn't bother her at all. "Thanks. I will." For months, he'd known Maia was having visions but had kept her secret. They had long since crossed the line between coworkers and confidants, so his request seemed only natural.

Smiling, she headed for the elevator and the task ahead--convincing the antagonistic Collier that his life was in danger and grudgingly revealing Maia's ability to yet another person, the last one on the planet she'd want to know about it. But Marco was right; she had no choice. What mattered now was making sure she prevented Collier's murder so her daughter didn't have to experience it twice. Sadly, if she failed, Marco would probably hear about it on the news before he could hear it from her.


	6. Inspiration

NOTES: Anyone else notice how, in Tom's created reality--a world without Maia or Marco--Diana remained single, even after eight years? I was tempted to write about that Diana, but decided to stick with our Diana, instead.

SPOILERS: through Life Interrupted

DISCLAIMER: _The 4400_ and all things associated with it belong to other people.

* * *

TWELVE STEPS 

STEP 6: INSPIRATION

It had been a fairly routine day, and then...

Her heart was still racing, cheeks flushed, with embarrassment and shock vying for emotional dominance. She felt the need to talk to someone about it, and, really, there was only one person who came to mind. Pulling out her cell phone, she hit 1 on the speed dial.

"Hey, Diana. What's up?"

She could have called him on her work line, but this was personal. In her mind, that warranted the use of her own phone. "The weirdest thing just happened."

"Weird at NTAC is relative." Marco's tone was mildly amused. "What was it?"

"Tom kissed me."

"_What?_" Within the shock and surprise, she thought she heard a hint of wrath. Some part of her was pleased by it, but that wasn't why she'd called.

"Tom kissed me."

"On the lips?" It came out with a slight squeak.

"No, not on the lips," she huffed indignantly. Of course, saying so brought to mind how she enjoyed watching Marco's lips, and she wondered, not for the first time, what it might be like to kiss them.

He cleared his throat. "May I ask _why_?" His voice was back under control.

"That's just it," she puzzled. "I don't know why."

"Well...what happened right before he...did that?"

"It's been all paperwork, today, and he was kind of zoning out. So I threw a pen at him-"

"You threw a pen at him?"

"Yeah, to get his attention."

"Are you in the habit of throwing pens?" Was that censure mixed with the curiosity?

Irked, she reminded, "I thought we were talking about Tom."

"Right. So did you get his attention?"

"Yeah, he snapped out of it but looked kind of startled."

"Well, you did throw a pen at him." Now he was just teasing her.

"It wasn't because of that!" She took a breath. "Look, I mentioned a report, and he got all excited. This is where it gets weird... He asked me about the 4400."

"Anything specific?"

Twiddling her pen, she contemplated how to express the weirdness, but settled for brevity. "It was like he was asking if it was real--Highland Beach, the ball of light, the whole thing."

"Huh..."

"When I told him it was, he grabbed my head, kissed me then ran out of here with a big grin on his face."

"Tom can smile?" His surprise seemed almost wholly genuine.

She couldn't help but chuckle. "And it's not even a blue moon."

"Yeah, that _is_ weird." There was the faint sound of typing on the other end of the line. "So...where did he run _to_?"

"He headed for the elevators, so I guess right out front. Why?"

"Huh." He sounded bemused.

"Huh, what?"

"Can you access the security cameras on your computer?" Although he hadn't explicitly suggested it, she knew he expected her to follow along.

Holding her cell with her shoulder, she started opening the necessary programs. "Sure."

"Check out the feed from external cameras eleven and twelve." She detected a subtle mirth in his voice.

He waited silently as she dug her way through security protocols. After a few seconds, she was in and pulling up the live video Marco had indicated. The results shocked her to the point she almost forgot she was on the phone.

"Diana, are you seeing what I'm seeing?"

She blinked to be sure, feeling a blush creep across her cheeks. "Tom all but making out with some woman who isn't his ex?" She felt a pang of envy and wondered if she had ever been held like that, if she ever would.

"Yeah...that would be what I'm seeing." There was an appreciative whistle in the background, and she heard Marco hiss at someone to shut up before he asked, "So...what was the report you mentioned?"

She realized what he was suggesting and opened the file. "Mareva... Well, I'll be."

The sound of more typing was followed by, "Looks like her, doesn't it? Do you know her?"

"Never even met."

"Surely, Tom must have..."

"Not that I know of."

"Then how do you explain... Oh, there they go."

Switching back from the 4400's file to the security cameras, Diana watched Tom and Ms. Mareva walk off, his arm wrapped familiarly around the woman's waist. "There's only one explanation."

"Really? What's that?" Marco seemed amazed she'd solved this puzzle so quickly.

"Life really is stranger than fiction."


	7. Risk

NOTES: She said it was probably the nicest thing anyone had ever done for her... This is the episode that broke my resistance to shipping these two.

SPOILERS: through Carrier

DISCLAIMER: _The 4400_ and all things associated with it belong to other people.

* * *

TWELVE STEPS 

STEP 7: RISK

_"Any way I can help?"_

_"Yeah, you can slap me upside the head for ever mentioning that diary in the first place. It didn't save Collier's life, and now it's making mine hell."_

_"How about I just make some fresh coffee, instead?"_

Lame. Lame! LAME!

Marco hated being in a position where he couldn't do anything for Diana that would make a difference. _"What NTAC wants, NTAC gets."_ She seemed completely resigned to have to sacrifice her daughter's privacy on the altar of duty. If he'd never suggested she should look at Maia's diary, then she wouldn't have learned it held visions and could have avoided being in this miserable situation. There had to be a way around it, but his knowledge of the law was limited.

The others had left for the day, so he had the Theory Room to himself. Picking up the mini basketball they kept for such moments of fruitlessness, he began tossing it repeatedly through the hoop.

Swish, thump, thump. Swish, thump, thump.

He'd had many a clever idea while observing the therapeutic ritual of the mini hoop. Tom didn't understand; his mind didn't work that way. The perpetually dour agent had ridiculed them from day one for the video games, foosball table and other distractions because he wasn't a multi-tasker. Sometimes you needed a distraction to clear your head, and sometimes the best ideas came when you were focused on something unrelated. But Marco had already played two games of foosball, logged an hour in Neverwinter and shot hoops. Setting the ball aside, he paused for a moment and let the frustration drain out of him, revealing the guilt and disappointment beneath it.

The last time he'd tried to offer Diana meaningful personal advice, it had led to this. He didn't want his desire to be a part of her life to cause her more trouble than she already had to deal with, but that's exactly what had happened. Perhaps she was better off without his help.

With a dispirited sigh, he moved to his desk to pop an antacid and grab his jacket before heading home. After locking up, he made his way to the parking garage and was rounding the corner from the Theory Room when the elevator dinged. Diana exited without looking around--apparently the fresh coffee hadn't done much good. Normally, he would be sure to be call out and join her en route to her car, but he felt there would be little point in attempting to distract her today, let alone trying to flirt with her. Even so, he couldn't resist watching her as she left.

The tension radiated off her, noticeable even from behind. He often wondered if Maia ever had to deal with any of her mother's darker emotions or if she was Diana's balm in the way Marco could only dream of being. How many times had he wanted to give her a simple, reassuring hug? She was given the toughest assignments, so it was natural she had to deal with more stress. But this was personal, and seeing Diana like that caused his stomach to churn despite the antacid. His job was stressful but secure and more than satisfying; his family was happy and healthy; he was doing well, all things considered. Yet this one aspect of his life tormented him relentlessly; it was like an obsession. Maybe his sister was right and he should seek therapy.

On the drive home, he tried listening to music and talk shows, but nothing got through his preoccupation with Diana's situation. Then his cell rang. With a quick glance at the caller ID, he decided this was just what he needed.

"Hi, Grandma."

"Marco, I need your help again." He loved how his name almost had three syllables when Grandma Pacella said it. Hearing her voice made him smile.

"Should I come over?" He was her youngest grandson, and while she loved all of her grandchildren, he fancied himself her favorite. As was the case with every woman he loved, he'd do anything for her.

"Yes, if you have not eaten. I just made lasagna."

Like most lasagna, hers was better the next day. "Thanks, Grandma, but I'm not that hungry." His stomach grumbled in sour agreement. It was a bread and butter kind of night.

"Siete troppo sottili."

"Yes, Grandma. So how can I help you?"

"It is the VCR, again." Marco had bought his grandparents a TiVo for Christmas. While Grandpa had taken to the new technology like a fish to water, Grandma still insisted on using video tapes when she was too busy to watch a favorite show. "It is spitting out the tape again."

"Are you using the ones I gave you?" Her VCR was fussy about the brand and quality of its tapes.

"Yes. And it was fine for a while, but now... And it was only halfway used," she lamented.

After a moment's consideration, he asked, "Has Tony Jr. been over recently?" His cousin's boy was the apple of her eye, but he also had a notorious knack for getting into things he shouldn't.

"Yes, just yesterday."

"Check to see if the tab has been pulled on the tape."

The phone was set down. He heard shuffling and other noises followed by her picking it back up. "Marco! How did you know?"

"I'm omniscient," he chuckled.

"Do not say such things! It is not funny." Even joking about anything she considered divine was not acceptable.

He wondered, not for the first time, what she would make of Maia's abilities. "I'm sorry, Grandma. Do you have some clear tape nearby?"

"Yes..." There was the sound of a drawer opening. "I have it, now."

"Take a piece about three inches long and use it to cover the hole where the tab used to be. Make sure you do it from top to bottom, not side to side."

"And this will trick the VCR into believing there is still a tab?"

"Yes. So long as it thinks it has what it needs, it'll be fine."

And just like that, inspiration struck.

"Thank you, Marco."

"No, thank _you_, Grandma. You just helped me solve a big problem!"

"Me? How did I do that?"

"I'll tell you about it over dinner tomorrow."

"Buon! When should I expect you?"

"Six. But I've gotta go, now."

"Be sure to eat something."

"I will. 'Bye, Grandma."

"Goodbye, Marco."

Taking the next turnoff, Marco headed for an office supply store. Twenty minutes, seven dollars and twelve cents later, he was home, absently eating buttered bread while contemplating the materials that would help him help Diana. It was a crazy idea, one that could cause them even more trouble than Diana was already in, but it just might work.

Diana had only given him the roughest description of the diary, and the options at the store had been limited. Even so, he was confident he knew more about it than anyone else at NTAC. He was also familiar enough with Maia's handwriting and thinking that he should be able to make it convincing. Besides, kids' handwriting changed constantly as they grew. He was just glad that, unlike most people from her era, she wrote mainly in print and not script.

First, he popped open the container of letter stickers he'd bought, choosing alternating colors to spell "Maia's Diary" on the cover. Pleased with the childlike imperfections in the stickers' alignment, he opened the notebook and pressed it flat then selected one of the colored gel pens he'd bought because his niece was always so fond of them.

The diary had to date back a bit.

_The people who keep track of us will be called the National Threat Assessment Command and will get their own building._

_Diana will reject another partner at work because he'll say something mean about me._

He could only write authoritatively about events he knew.

_Diana will become my real mommy._

_I'll get a computer for Christmas._

Naturally, he had to include some events that didn't directly relate to Maia.

_The lady next-door will get a gray and white kitten._

_Tom's car will get a flat tire and make him late to work on an important day. _

_Carrie will sprain her ankle while rollerblading in the park._

There also needed to be a few things that hadn't happened yet.

_Marco will take me to see the Sponge Bob movie, and one of the kids in the theater will throw up from eating too much candy._

_Mommy and I will go apple picking and make apple pie. It will taste good, but the bottom crust will be soggy._

And there was no reason he shouldn't indulge himself, just a little.

_Mommy will go out with Marco._

What chance was there she would read all of it?

By nine, he had filled the notebook with an appropriate volume of predictions and set it aside, pleased with the results.

Tomorrow, Tom and Diana would be looking for leads to Collier's killer after morning paperwork. She'd been skipping coffee with him since the canvassing had begun. He'd have to think of an excuse for her to come to the Theory Room so he might give her the diary, but he could contemplate that on the drive in. Fortunately, there was a convenient blind spot in the basement security cameras, one that anyone headed to or from Intel Room 3 passed through. He could slip it to her there.

At best, she might be grateful enough to accept a date with him. At worst, she'd turn him in to Nina and lose him his job. Either way, he'd finally come up with a solution to her problem. The satisfaction had calmed his stomach, mind and heart. Tonight, he would sleep well, and tomorrow night, he would eat lasagna.

* * *

Siete troppo sottili. - You are too thin.

Buon - Good


	8. Forgiveness

NOTES: I think this was the best 4400 episode ever. The interweaving of all the different kinds and levels of forgiveness was remarkable and immensely satisfying. I wish more series could offer stories so profound. There was no Marco in this one, but there was plenty Diana might want to discuss with him. Thank you for the beta, PurpleYin!

SPOILERS: through Rebirth

DISCLAIMER: _The 4400_ and all things associated with it belong to other people.

* * *

TWELVE STEPS 

STEP 8: FORGIVENESS

Diana had decided to wear her leather jacket, a conscious choice to emulate the thicker skin she knew she'd need to survive the day. She was sick of Tom's self-righteousness about the whole Mayuya case. Add to that the latest development, that the Rwandan's healing was slowly killing him, and she had to get out of the office, if only for a little while. It was as if doing so would somehow delay what was happening, postpone the inevitable, but, really, she needed blow off some steam. Pulling out her cell phone, she hit 1 on her speed-dial.

After a single ring, she was greeted by, "Hey, Diana."

"I feel like a coffee break." She couldn't have kept all of the tension out of her voice if she had tried.

"So do I." Of course, he would say yes, regardless of her mood, but even so, she felt relief that he'd agreed. At least _someone_ wasn't peeved at her this week.

"Meet me out front in..." Glancing at her watch, she wondered how long it would take for him to make it upstairs.

"One minute." It didn't seem to bother him in the least that she meant a walk to the cafe they frequented instead of a cup from the office pot. She hadn't had time for a coffee stroll since Collier's death.

It was a beautiful day, and as she made her way along the sidewalk, she briefly wondered if it was nature's way of mocking her and her petty concerns. Kick a sister out of your home? Ha! Reveal a man's death sentence choices? Piffle! Nature had bigger issues to contend with, like making the world spin and seasons change so life could go on.

Marco ambled along beside her, his unhurried gait causing her to walk more slowly and relax a little, but Marco seemed uncomfortable with the silence. After all, she had done this to talk. "I read the med labs' results," he offered, not needing to mention Mayuya's name for her to know the context.

"Yeah. The cherry on top of a spectacularly rotten week."

He shot her a surreptitious, worried look that she almost didn't catch, then he was mild Marco, again. "Something else happen with your sister?"

She nearly stopped walking in her surprise. How did he do that? How did he know? "I'll say. I kicked her out, and I'm not letting her near Maia again. She used Maia for betting then lost the money she'd gotten from pawning my engagement ring."

There was a funny noise from Marco that made her look up from the pavement in time to see his brows disappear into his bangs. "Engagement ring?"

Belatedly, she realized the implication of what she'd said. "It was my mother's."

"Oh." In looking away then back, he changed his expression from relieved comprehension to quiet concern. "Well...Maia _is_ a kid...she's going to make mistakes."

"_Maia?_" Accusation was mixed with her incredulity. "_April_ is the adult in this equation; she's the one who's responsible."

He spread his hands in a placating manner. "Not to play Devil's advocate, but...think about it. It seems Maia knew what was going to happen, that she intentionally told your sister to place a bad bet. Maybe she just..." putting his hands into his pockets, he shrugged, "didn't know the ring was involved or how it was going to affect you."

"You're not suggesting I lay this at Maia's feet, are you?"

Shaking his head, he pulled out a hand to gesture with. "No, but it sounds like it has more to do with them than you, like you just got caught in the crossfire." Shrugging, again, he added, "If your sister hadn't lost the ring, would you even have heard about this? Wouldn't it just be between them?"

"Is that supposed to be some sort of consolation? She _used_ my _daughter_!"

Nodding, he didn't reflect any of her frustration back at her. "And there's no excuse for that. But how is cutting off your sister going to help?"

"So I should just forget it ever happened?"

"No, nor should there be no accountability." His calm, rational, reasonable tone nettled her. "But you could _forgive_ what happened."

She stopped and gaped at him, yet he seemed willfully unfazed by her silent perturbation.

"Try looking at it this way... You're upset about Tom being so hard on Mayuya, and that involves the deaths of hundreds. You're willing to counterbalance his responsibility for his actions, or..._inactions_ in this case, with the benefits he can offer now. Your sister has given Maia something no one else can give." He spread his hands. "A...a broader sense of family. Is one ring so important, one mistake so horrible as to make the potential she can offer you and Maia have no value?"

His ability to discern the patterns in chaos, to draw clarity from tangled messes, never ceased to impress her, even when the subject was her own life. Inside, her Catholic upbringing was nagging at her. She could all but hear Sister Ann's voice in her head, lecturing against hate. She knew forgiveness was the right choice. But why was it so much harder to forgive people you were related to?

It hadn't just been Maia who had felt a greater sense of family the last few weeks; she had felt it, too. More than the ring, it was the feeling of betrayal that really bothered her the most. Yet Maia, who was the true victim, had managed to accept April's apology. Surely she could, too. After all, what kind of example was she setting if she didn't? A resigned smile tugged at the corners of her mouth, and she saw Marco relax, smiling in return.

"What?"

"Maia said something like that this morning...sans the Mayuya parallel."

"So...maybe we have a point?"

"Yeah, maybe you do."

They continued their stroll to the cafe in comfortable silence. It was nearly empty at that time of day, so service was quick. She couldn't help but note Marco went with an Italian soda instead of coffee, but she didn't ask why. On the way back, they talked about lighter topics, including the latest misadventures of his niece. Apparently, Gianna's attempt to make brownies unsupervised had resulted in quite the mess. She often wondered if he brought her up as a way of offering Diana a comparison to her own experiences or as a way of bonding with her or, perhaps, something else entirely. Regardless, the stories of his naughty niece usually made her feel better about Maia.

As they crested the hill and NTAC's front doors came into view, she heaved a big sigh.

"There's nothing you can do but tell him."

She looked over at Marco, wondering if he was telepathic. Then again, what else was there that would cause her such apprehension? "I know, but it's not as though I can look forward to it." He nodded in response. "Then, while helping a man deal with two, death-only options, I need to find the time to track down my mother's ring before it gets sold."

"April didn't tell you where she'd sold it?"

"I..." Diana looked away sheepishly. "I didn't ask."

"Oh. So...I guess that means Maia doesn't know, either?"

"No, just that the proprietor is bald and it's somewhere near a bakery."

"Look, you've got enough on your plate right now." He reached out, as though to touch her arm in reassurance, then changed the gesture into a sweeping motion that ended with his hand on his chest. It reminded her of the comforting hand on her shoulder he'd given her after Jean Baker's death. Some part of her was disappointed he had chosen not to touch her. "Let me find it."

"_You?_"

"Yeah. Think of it as a way of making up for including Mayuya in my report to Nina and causing you all this work."

Surely he didn't feel responsible for Mayuya? "He would have been exposed, eventually, whether you'd brought it to Nina's attention or not."

"Okay. Then think of it as one less thing you have to worry about."

"Marco, I..."

Stopping, he faced her straight on. "How many hours of sleep did you get last night?"

He said it blandly, as though he didn't think it was an intrusive, intimate question, but it made her glance away.

"Less than five."

"And how much time have you spent with Maia this week?"

"Does that include when she's not talking to me?" In response to his sympathetic grin, she answered, "Not very much."

"It's really no trouble. Besides, I'm used to datamining, and you deserve a perk for giving us Theory Room guys problems we can really sink out teeth into."

Gazing into his warm, brown eyes, she suddenly felt a little lighter. She knew what she had to do and what she didn't, and, somehow, that was a relief. Nodding, she smiled. "Okay, you've sold me on the idea."

"Good." He grinned and started walking again. "I'll have the address by the end of the day. I might be able to get it sooner if I have a picture of April."

"So quick?"

"Sure."

"Here, I can give you a picture right now." Pulling out her phone, she scrolled through the images stored in it and sent him one of April as they approached NTAC's front door.

"Hmm."

"What?"

He flipped his own phone closed and opened the door for her. "I guess I was expecting crazy colored hair and face piercings or something."

Was that the impression she'd given of April?

Security waved them through.

"Even so, other than the hair and the eyes, I don't see a lot of resemblance."

Without thinking, she asked, "Do you look like your sisters?"

He smiled "Other than the hair and eyes...I guess not." Arriving at the spot where they had to separate for him to go back to the basement, they both hesitated. "Well...good luck with everything. I'll text you the address when I find it."

As always, Marco was true to his word.

Diana hadn't had much time to stand outside herself and contemplate her behavior, lately, not that she had a tendency to do so except in regards to motherhood. But after witnessing the quiet dignity with which Mayuya accepted his fate and Tom's odious sense of "justice," she was feeling a bit philosophical as she made her way to the pawn shop to retrieve her mother's ring.

Had she stopped trying to be a better person? Or was her lack of personal growth exclusive to her relationships with blood relatives? Maia had only just met her aunt and had never met her grandfather.

As she held the little silver box in her hand, she recalled Marco's words. _How is cutting off your sister going to help?_

Flicking open her phone, she hit 3 on her speed dial. Maia answered. "Hi, mom."

"Do you know where your Aunt April is going?"

It didn't surprise her that Maia both was unstartled by the question and had a ready answer. "She's getting on a bus for Berkeley, California, but I don't know where the station is."

Fortunately, Diana did, and she took a right to head that way. "I'm going to be a little later than I thought, sweetie. I have something really important to do."

"I know."

"Bye-bye, sweetheart."

"See you soon."

Making her way to the bus station, she tried to think of what she wanted to say, but no words would come. All she could do was marvel at the feeling in her heart that told her she was doing what was right.


	9. Trust

NOTES: In many ways, Hidden was a frustrating episode as far as Diana and Marco were concerned. On the one hand, it seemed the only reason they had that little scene with him was to further develop and reinforce their relationship. After all, it's the only scene he's got, and it wasn't vital, plot-wise, though it did foreshadow the 4400's illness. So really, for that episode, it was mainly a character scene, and it showed us, yet again, Diana turning to Marco as her confidant and bouncing board. Despite how intimate the scene was--they gave a parking garage warm tones, and Diana initially entered into the hug with a smile--the scene ended off-key. Her expression was confusing, almost as though she were humoring him or thinking to herself, "What good does this do?" Either way, there is one undeniable element to it all: They were alone in a secluded place to discuss her daughter's latest dire vision. Thank you for the beta, PurpleYin!

SPOILERS: through Hidden

DISCLAIMER: _The 4400_ and all things associated with it belong to other people.

* * *

TWELVE STEPS

STEP 9: TRUST

They had uncovered the best lead to Collier's murder, and Tom had told her that personal business would keep him out of the office. There were only two conclusions to draw from that--it was a hell of a personal problem, and he didn't want her involved...again. Diana had tried not to feel snubbed by another example of Tom's lack of trust in her; there would have been no point in letting it get to her. Tom was Tom. Besides, she'd had more important things to worry about, and Nina was intent on being hands-on with this investigation. The head of NTAC had lost none of her skills while sitting behind her desk, so working with her instead of Tom was fine. But Diana couldn't completely let go of the niggling aggravation Tom's standoffishness inspired. Wasn't he supposed to be the people person of the two of them?

Then her attempt to make brownies with her daughter--a mother and child moment she'd been planning for a week--had been interrupted by work and a traumatic vision from Maia. As a child, Diana had never gotten to experience a warm, domestic event like baking brownies with her mother, so having to postpone it was deeply frustrating. Having an absentee partner who'd given her grief about Maia's last life-threatening vision frustrated her all the more. Add to that having to pull herself away from her pleading daughter who was frantic to keep her from going after "that man," and she found herself in a completely foul mood. At least Mrs. Skalko had been available to babysit.

Maia's vision had offered no specifics, no idea of who would get hurt in pursuit of Collier's killer, so Diana rationalized there was no point in telling Nina about it. God only knew what her boss might do if she did share that tidbit. And if Maia's visions were unchangeable, what was the point? But she still felt the need to talk to someone about it all, and there was only one person who came to mind.

Flicking open her cell phone, she hit 1 on the speed dial. Her call was answered on the second ring.

"Hey, Diana."

Just hearing his subtly rough voice with its warm, innately welcoming tone made her feel a little better.

"Hey, Marco." There were sounds in the background that placed him in the Theory Room. "You still at work?"

"Yeah. I was on a roll with a simulation I was working on. You know how it gets."

Actually, ever since she'd taken in Maia, Diana had become more inclined to set non time-sensitive work aside to go home at five, like regular people, but she empathized with the tendency to get caught up in work.

"I'm coming in."

"At this hour?" His incredulity was mild but still there. Although she'd mentioned her plans for the evening to him, he didn't ask about "brownie night." If she was coming in, he'd know it had to be serious...and maybe he didn't want to remind her of what she was missing.

"They found Rios' wife."

"Ah."

"So you're about ready to head out?"

"Yeah."

"Meet me in that spot, would you? There's something I want to run past you." For some reason, she'd rather talk to him about this in person than over the phone.

"That spot" was a remote corner of the parking garage that housed NTAC's seldom-used cars and was in a surveillance blind spot. It was the best place in NTAC they'd found for a private conversation, and that's exactly what she wanted for any discussion of her daughter's visions. Besides, she'd be meeting Nina in the garage. There should be just enough time to talk to Marco while she waited for her boss to arrive.

"Sure." A quiet concern flavored his voice. "How soon?"

Diana had already left the highway. "Five minutes."

"I'll be there."

"Okay. 'Bye."

She hung up and wondered at herself. Why hadn't she just talked to him over the phone? There was probably no one else in the Theory Room, and even if there was, Marco would have found someplace private to use his cell. And even though he had a knack for seeing things from a different perspective, offering her ideas she would never come up with herself, she really didn't think he could figure a viable way around Maia's vision.

Contemplating the question as she made her way to NTAC, she realized her impetus to see him wasn't just because he was the one with whom she discussed Maia's visions, it was because she _wanted_ to see him. Having to do double duty because of Tom, she hadn't had the chance to see much of Marco, and she missed him. There was something vital about seeing him, watching his eyes and mouth and body as he spoke, that no email or phone conversation could duplicate. She had never been particularly good at reading people, but, just as she could with Maia, she read him fairly well. There was something about that she found appealing, some part of her that enjoyed reading him.

The realization caused a little internal conflict, which was the last thing she needed at the moment. Part of her liked what she had with Marco--the comfortable camaraderie, the trust and reliability, being able to talk with an intellectual equal--but part of her was apprehensive. She had spent years perfecting her independent life, of not needing anyone else, and she was uncomfortable with the idea of letting that go, even a little. After all, it had kept her safe and emotionally sound all these years. It had also made her an island, an emotionally barren stretch of sand that only Maia had been able to reach and bring to fruition. Hadn't she been just as apprehensive about that? But now she wouldn't give up Maia for the world. Besides, like "brownie night," just because she wanted something didn't mean she needed it. Was wanting such a bad thing?

Then there were his expectations to worry about. He didn't push her, and for that she was grateful. But ever since he'd made her that fake version of Maia's diary to hand over to NTAC, she'd had a sense of unwelcome indebtedness that fought with the appreciation and gratitude he deserved. Although he did his best to keep it from showing, he couldn't completely hide his hopefulness. There had been no intentional strings attached, but she couldn't escape the constricting feeling of being obliged to him. Why couldn't she just be thankful and appreciate all he gave her?

Pulling into the parking garage, she made her way to the back corner where she found Marco, leaning casually against the bumper of an NTAC sedan. Just seeing him, waiting patiently with his concerned smile and thoughtful gaze, warmed a part of her heart. Much as she might like to ignore it, she couldn't avoid it. This was why she'd wanted to see him, to feel that sense of connection and affinity that came from collaborating with someone to whom you trust everything. Oh, yes, she would pick his brain for ideas, hopeful for another inspired solution like the diary he'd given her, but it was the personal contact that would do her the most good.

Stepping out of her car, she walked over to him and cut right to the chase.

"Maia's had another vision."


	10. Desire

NOTES: "That'd be Marco earning his paycheck." Ah! Sweet flattery! If only Marco could have heard her say such honest, heartfelt words of praise! It was fairly obvious that the signal affected Marco and the Theory Room Guys differently than the normally uptight Tom and other gun-toting male agents of NTAC, even differently from the female agents. "What?" you say, "It only affected men." I ask you--does Nina normally enforce order among her agents by pulling a gun? Oh, and did anyone else notice that Marco seems to be #1 on Diana's speed dial? Anyway, Lockdown was all about control. Despite the wrinkly clothes, Marco has shown signs of being nearly as much of a control freak as Diana. It's bad enough when external influences take control away from you. But what about internal influences? This one got away from me, so it's a bit longer than the rest. Thank you for the beta, PurpleYin!

SPOILERS: through Lockdown

DISCLAIMER: _The 4400_ and all things associated with it belong to other people.

* * *

TWELVE STEPS 

STEP 10: DESIRE

Marco was angry...angry, agitated, annoyed, aggravated. He recognized that all those feelings were his, but, at the same time, they felt alien, unnatural, exaggerated. Like a swollen ankle, they were a part of him yet abnormally proportioned, as though every negative emotion, however slight, had been magnified to the point of ridiculousness. He was fairly certain of the _how_ that had caused his current foul attitude. At the moment, he didn't particularly care about the _why_, though he suspected it had some connection to that email about Collier's birthday and the follow-up post that suggested dire circumstances. What mattered most was undoing the process; it didn't take a genius to figure out what might happen if a building full of armed men suddenly lost control of themselves. Sensing something nefarious was afoot as soon as "the signal" had begun, he'd managed to record most of the strange sequence of sounds. Now all he had to do was figure out how to reverse its effects.

It had started out as a buzz, not the mosquito kind but more of the circular saw variety. Slowly, it had changed and grew into a singularly unpleasant, discordant whine that inspired a headache and caused a vibration that made you uncomfortably familiar with your Eustachian tubes. Eventually, those sensations had faded as the bad vibes took over. He could all but feel the adrenaline and testosterone flooding his veins. Despite the chemical bombardment his system was having to endure, somehow, he'd been able to remain in control of his faculties. Based on what he was picking up on the intercom and other less obvious surveillance methods, the rest of NTAC seemed to be having mixed results. The sooner he could fix this, the better for everyone.

Fortunately, there were only two others in the Theory Room with him, and despite P.J.'s larger size, Marco was confident he could take them both on, if the need should arise. His surly colleagues had agreed with him that they should lock themselves in; unlike NTAC's field agents and the quintet of NSA heavy-hitters they'd just acquired, the members of his department didn't carry weapons. Their best chance at getting through this unmolested was to hole themselves up. With luck and the advantage of being in a secluded, rarely visited part of the building, they would be able to work on finding a solution without any outside interference. Of course, external interference wasn't the only potential source of trouble. Already, P.J. had broken Brady's nose as they'd argued about whether the signal was constant or a single pulse that would wear off. He thought it was neither, or perhaps both--that the signal was a single burst seemed self-evident based on the results of his recording, but the impulses it inspired were definitely _not_ wearing off.

While trying to focus on the graphic representation of the signal as Brady and P.J. continued their inane argument, something in Marco snapped. Hefting P.J.'s bust of Einstein, he pitched it at the blank wall they used for their projection monitor. Although a part of him cringed at the attention the noise might draw from anyone outside the room, the sound of the breaking ceramic was deeply gratifying. He'd never really liked that bust, anyway.

Having gotten the undivided attention of his coworkers, he snarled, "Both of you guys, _shut up_!" Their shocked expressions and his own internal malaise at his behavior caused him to calm his voice a bit. "I'm trying to get work done." Just as one distraction was silenced, another plagued him--his phone rang.

It was Diana.

Seeing her name on his cell phone's display filled him with a violent mix of emotions--fear for her safety, indignation at having her lean on him and never getting anything from her in return, and vexation at having the one person he couldn't ignore call him just then. Would he ever get to concentrate so he could fix the damned problem? Drawing a deep breath, he tried to still the maelstrom within him.

"Not a good time, Diana."

If she was upset by the tone he used with her, he didn't notice it in her voice. "Marco, what's going on in there?"

Although he knew she was more than capable of taking care of herself, some part of him was relieved to learn she was outside. "Depends on who you _ask_. Somebody's definitely set off a whammy in here." Much to his annoyance, P.J. had already recovered from his shock and was heading toward Brady again. Why couldn't they show more restraint, like him? "Something's pumping up our fight or flight instincts." He snapped in irritation at his colleagues, but it wasn't a forceful enough gesture to divert them from their single-minded pursuit of argument. "Heavy emphasis on the _fight_ part."

"Well, Marco, I need to get inside, and I need your help."

Was she deaf? Was she delusional? How could she sound so matter-of-fact? He needed to explain it to her more clearly. Isn't that why she talked to him--to get sound advice?

"Every male in this building has got a gallon of adrenaline coursing through his veins right now, a-and most of them are _armed_. If you're on the outside, _stay there_."

"Listen to me, Marco, Maia is inside, and I need to get to her." That certainly explained her insane course of action. "Do you have access to the building's schematics?" With the building under lockdown and surrounded by guards, she would need an unconventional way in.

He latched briefly onto her calm and followed along with it. "Yeah, I can pull them up." He was already halfway through the request before he was done saying so.

"Do it." She said it like a command, an imperative, and that rubbed him the wrong way. Where did she get off telling him what to do?

Some part of him appreciated she was worried about Maia, and that was affecting her tone...but the rest of him was just resentful. "And what do I get in return?" After all, she was, essentially, asking him to break the law for her--_again_.

There was a pause. "Well...I-we can talk about that later." She said it with sonorous promise, which filled him with satisfaction.

"Good. Good. I'm gonna hold you to that." But the faster he dealt with this, the sooner he could return to solving the overlying problem. And the sooner they solved the problem, the sooner he could negotiate reciprocation from Diana. All he needed was one night to convince her they were meant to be.

Using the guys to help analyze the schematics would speed things along and maybe get them to do something more useful than argue. "Hang on." He pulled the phone away from his face. "_Guys! Settle it later!_" Yelling definitely got their attention. Maybe he wouldn't need to throw anything else. "We gotta get Skouris into the building."

With a less theoretical task in front of them, he managed to get the his people to focus...somewhat. Marco didn't have the authority to override the lockdown protocols, nor the time to hack into the program, so that limited their options. To make matters more difficult, the building's surveillance cameras offered few long-distance views, so Diana had to play scout for them as they worked their way through half a dozen possible entry points before finding one unguarded. It took nearly an hour. By the end of it, she was panting from the effort of sprinting from cover to cover. The sound of it in his ear was driving him to distraction.

He wanted her. He wanted to know the taste of her mouth and the scent of her desire, to feel her skin against his fingers and her body pressed beneath him, to be surrounded by her, to hear her gasp in pleasure and release. He wanted to possess her, and, just then, he was willing to force the issue.

And that would ruin everything.

Aside from probably putting his life in jeopardy--she was armed and a fine shot, after all--to act on the carnal impulses that pulled at him like a seductive tide would wipe out all the trust and faith and confidence he had worked so long to earn from her. He wanted her, but never like that. He wanted her enough to not risk giving in to impulse, but he wasn't sure he could control himself if she were to actually come into his presence. Fortunately, her way in and her destination would keep her far from Intel Room 3 and his frustrated cravings.

She ended up entering through a window that was hidden behind a bush. While she broke into an interview room near the med labs, Marco covered the sound and drew the attention of the closest guard with noises from the nearest external speaker. Once inside, she thanked him breathlessly and told him her plan--to find Maia and the other 4400s, hide, then sedate them. She said Maia was supposed to be with Dr. Hudson from NTAC medical, so she figured he'd have drugs to keep people calm. If only Marco could get his hands on some! Diana hadn't wasted time discussing with him whether or not a 4400 was involved; both were smart enough to assume it. Marco didn't bother pointing out that he figured sedating the 4400 responsible would likely do nothing; he was just grateful to get her off the phone so he could put all his efforts into figuring out a way to counter the effects of the signal.

Unfortunately, without something concrete to work on, P.J. and Brady were soon at each other's throats, again. Deciding he'd do better solo, he ganged up on P.J. with Brady and quickly had him restrained. Then he turned on Brady. With the liberal use of extension cords for binding and threats of the destruction of other favorite decorations, he got them to sit put and shut up. At last, he could think in peace!

Wiping the clearboard clean, he began working on his own equations. Dealing with the sound like any other wave, rather than worrying about the biological effects it produced, he focused on creating a counter-signal that would cancel out the original. He didn't consider another option; his theory would work--it had to.

In an attempt to maximize time, he played his altered signal on the Theory Room speakers as he manipulated it. Although doing so put them all at risk of being noticed by someone outside, it would allow him to learn the effects of his counter-signal in real-time, without having to test it on the computer first. He'd only been working on it for about forty minutes when his phone rang.

"Kinda busy, here, Diana."

"We just put the 4400's under, but we're not sure if that's killed the signal." Something about the "we"s bothered him, but he was more irritated by the disruption. "Do you still feel amped up?"

He'd known knocking out the 4400 responsible wouldn't work; the signal had to be negated. "Yes, I do. Okay? I'm working on it from my end." What more did she want from him? Didn't she understand he was working as fast as he could?

"What's that noise?"

"I-I'm trying to counter the effects of the signal." He felt the solution was just within reach. "If you'd just _shut up_ for a second, maybe I could find the right frequency." Was that so much to ask for?

"Okay, calm down, Marco. I need you to do this." It sounded so patronizing, like she was soothing a temperamental dog. That's what he felt like, sometimes, her blindly loyal dog. Anything for a pat on the head.

"Mmm, always has to be _me_, doesn't it, huh? Old, reliable, Marco--does whatever you want."

On the other end of the phone, he could hear the sounds of pounding and gunfire, and it made him mad that he couldn't confront her and her threat in person.

"Marco, I've got to go." There was a hint of desperation in her voice. "Tell me you're close."

"I'm close."

"Thanks...for everything. Good-bye, Marco." The quiet finality of it made him want to throw his cell against the wall, to smash it like the Einstein bust.

"Yeah." Grimly reminding himself she was both armed and capable, he shut off his phone and shoved it in his pocket. He hadn't needed more pressure to pull this rabbit out of his hat, but he certainly felt the weight of responsibility on his shoulders.

After a few more minutes of tweaking, he could sense the tension and anger begin to fade. At last, he started feeling more like himself, and in doing so, he could reflect clearly on his behavior. It mortified him. While they may have contributed to his solving the problem faster, the things he'd said to Diana and how he'd dealt with P.J. and Brady were not acceptable. True, he hadn't slugged anyone, like P.J., but how could he face Diana after this? What would he say?

Of course, there were more important things to deal with than his personal problems. First and foremost, he needed to free his colleagues, take down the barrier they'd erected and get them both medical attention. It made him feel a little better that they were feeling apologetic and sheepish, themselves, especially P.J. Together they did what needed doing, and the feeling of working as a team was heartening. Once his coworkers were being attended by paramedics, he set himself to gathering data about what had happened. Whomever was in charge after this would need a preliminary analysis of the lockdown and its potential repercussions as soon as possible.

The initial findings were pretty grim--six dead and dozens injured. He and his fellow geeks had done pretty well, all things considered. It gave him the resolve to talk with Diana. After all, learning what had happened with the 4400 at NTAC during all this was vital to the investigation of the incident, and she had been with them through the last hour or so. He found her pushing Maia in a wheelchair toward an exit of the medical wing. Seeing Diana safe sent a surprisingly profound wave of relief through him. She was focused on Maia, murmuring words of assurance to her daughter, and wasn't aware of him at first. With a peculiar rash peppering one arm and a stuffed dog clutched determinedly in both hands, Maia looked sweaty and spent. No wonder Diana had been so worried about her. He hated to interrupt them, especially knowing all Diana had gone through to reach her little girl. He was standing in a connecting hallway that was dark due to someone having shot out the backup lights, so they almost passed him without noticing.

"Mommy, it's Marco." Her tired, raspy voice tugged at his heart strings. The poor kid had been through a hell of a day.

Diana looked up, and for a moment, they just stared at each other. He felt naked in front of her, as though she had suddenly gained the ability to see right through him and found him lacking, yet she smiled in greeting. Some part of his brain managed to prod him into speech.

"I'm glad you're both all right." He cringed. Maia was obviously not all right. "Well, not hurt in any case."

"Thanks to you."

Despite her praise, it felt awkward, like she didn't know quite how to handle him. The investigation be damned--he couldn't let this sit. There was no way to take back what he'd said, but he could apologize, try to undo the damage.

"About what I said..."

"It's okay. I know you weren't yourself." She shrugged. "I mean, Tom wanted to shoot me-"

"He _what_?"

Diana blinked in surprise at his outburst, and from the corner of his eye, he saw several heads turn.

"Actually, I was more worried about _him_. If Max hadn't tackled him, I might have had to pull the trigger."

Calling people by their first names was fairly standard for Diana, but this was one he didn't recognize.

"Max?"

"Dr. Hudson," explained Maia. "He took care of me while you helped mommy get back inside."

The familiarity and appreciation with which Diana had mentioned the physician caused a subtle tug of concern in some distant part of Marco's psyche, but he ignored it. What mattered was getting things back onto an even keel with her.

"I had him go with some agents to secure the 4400 we had. We're going to head to the hospital to take care of Maia's rash." She looked past him and smiled in a way he had only seen her use with him. "Here he is."

Marco turned to find a tall, dark, buff, handsome doctor approaching, the kind any mother would want her daughter to bring home. Add to that his having kept Maia safe for Diana, and it made Marco distinctly uneasy. But Max _had_ protected both Maia and Diana, so Marco couldn't bring himself to summarily dislike the guy. Besides, he looked like he'd been through hell.

"Hey, Maia." The physician placed an I.V. on the hook connected to Maia's wheelchair then knelt to attach it to the needle already in her hand. "I've got something that should make you feel a bit better, get some more fluids into you."

"Thanks." It came out more like a croak than a word.

"Marco, meet Max," introduced Diana.

"That was you?" Max straightened with a smile and shook Marco's hand. "Great timing. A few seconds longer, and I think she'd have put a bullet in me."

Marco turned his surprised gaze to Diana. "You were going to shoot _him_, too? Glad I was in the basement."

They all got a chuckle out of that...well, everyone but Maia.

Max briefly touched Diana's elbow, causing her to give the physician a disgruntled glance. "I'm heading out to the ambulances." He said it in a way which suggested he expected Diana to follow.

With an instinctive displeasure stirring in his gut, Marco wasn't sure what to make of their behavior, but he had personal and professional matters he'd yet to discuss with her. "Actually, I was hoping for a few minutes before you leave..."

Diana seemed genuinely uncomfortable, then Max offered a solution. "Why don't I take Maia and meet you outside. I should pick up a few files before I leave, anyway."

"Meet you there." Leaning over, she gave Maia a kiss. "I'll be with you in a minute, okay?"

Maia nodded glumly and was wheeled away by the good doctor.

Lowering his voice, Marco asked, "So...how are you doing?" He knew she hadn't been physically injured, but that didn't mean she was all right.

She glanced away and started walking; he fell into step beside her. "Tired, horrified about what happened, anxious about Maia."

"You really had me worried." It was as close as he could come to telling her all he felt.

After a long, thoughtful look, she asked, "How about you?"

"Okay, other than needing to replace P.J.'s bust of Einstein."

That caused her to snort. "What did you do?"

"Pitched it at the monitor wall."

"Did anyone get hurt?"

"Other than our pride, there was P.J.'s knuckle and Brady's nose." Pulling out his preliminary report, he handed it to her. "After compiling this, I know how lucky we were."

Her brow furrowed and she came to a halt as she scanned the paper. "I just can't believe..."

"The signal caused us to do things we normally would never do." He shrugged.

"_You_ didn't hurt anyone."

"I was with two guys I was confident I could handle, and...I didn't have a gun." Sticking his hands in his pockets, he tried to confess. "I did and said a lot of things..."

She held up a hand to cut him off. "Forget about it. Despite all that, you still managed to get me to Maia and counter the signal." Lowering the paper, she looked up. "You were right, though."

"About what?"

Her gaze was searching, her voice just slightly apologetic. "I _do_ rely on you a lot."

"I'm glad." And he was.

For a moment, they quietly observed one another, and then the power in their section of the building went on.

"I guess I should find Nina and show her my report." Even with a bullet wound, Marco imagined the head of NTAC would want to be kept up-to-date. He started walking, and Diana went with him.

She shook her head. "Nina's on the way to the hospital. She said Tom'll be in charge."

"Not you?"

"She knows I have to deal with Maia, right now."

"Then I'd better touch base with him."

"He'll be out with the ambulances, too." Her face took on an embarrassed cast. "He'll need to get something for his head because I pistol whipped him."

Marco nearly tripped in surprise. "Is he okay?" He hadn't learned of that particular injury.

"Seemed to be."

If Diana could be okay with Tom after being threatened with a gun and then knocking him out, maybe Marco didn't have so much to worry about, after all. They came to a T in the hallway, each needing to go in a different direction.

Looking everywhere but into his eyes, she lifted the paper and asked, "Can I keep this?"

"Sure." He had the information memorized, and if someone else needed a copy, he could access his report from any terminal. "Good luck with Maia. Let me know how it goes and if you need anything."

"I think you'll have your hands full, here."

"I'd find the time."

Meeting his gaze, she smiled at him, an odd, sad smile. "Yeah, you always do." Lowering her eyes, she turned and walked away.

He stood for a minute, watching her go. Although he'd tried not to think about it, he couldn't help but consider how differently the day might have gone if he'd attended to the signal before helping Diana. Would there have been fewer deaths and injuries? Would Maia have been killed by the 4400-hostile NSA agents? Either way, there was nothing that could be done about it. His morose contemplation was interrupted by a text message from special agent Mick O'Donnell--the mainframe wasn't coming fully out of lockdown. Marco had already sent the IT guys home and P.J. and Brady to the hospital, so it was up to him. The time on his cell read that it was already six. Would he ever get home, today? At least he was still fit to work.

Marco decided to give Mick some quick reassurance that the mainframe would be dealt with in due time and check on the 4400 first, to give Tom a few minutes to deal with his head before dumping the technical responsibilities of NTAC on his back. En route, he called the Theory Room's favorite Chinese place and ordered one of everything; he wasn't the only one who'd need to eat. With a sigh, he pushed his personal concerns for Diana and Maia and P.J. and Brady aside to focus on the job ahead. It was going to be a long night.


	11. Honesty

NOTES: I'd wondered how it was Marco had learned about Dr. Max Hudson and Diana's apparent interest in the pusillanimous physician. It was interesting to hear in the commentaries that Max was, indeed, originally intended to be a love interest for Diana. I'd always planned on writing about Max saying "no" and Marco saying "yes" to Diana and Tom's request for information. I think it might have been more interesting from Diana's point of view, but I'm really not too sure what she was thinking, romantically, during this episode. Was she in denial? Blind? Callous? Honestly not interested? Mommy's Bosses suggests otherwise. Regardless, I wanted an even split--six from Diana's POV and six from Marco's--so this one's Marco's. My apologies that this one isn't too cheerful, but I was trying to keep it in tune with the episode. Thank you for the beta, PurpleYin!

SPOILERS: through The Fifth Page

DISCLAIMER: _The 4400_ and all things associated with it belong to other people.

* * *

TWELVE STEPS 

STEP 11: HONESTY

Being of Italian descent, Marco was, by nature and nurture, an emotional being. But, as a man of science, he preferred to be both logical and rational, and he liked to think these aspects of his character were not mutually exclusive. Yet he found himself at an impasse, with his feelings running riot over sensibility. Even in his current state, he was too self-aware to deceive himself. He was jealous, and it was making him petty, curt and irrational. Intellectually, he knew he had no right to any of it, that his behavior was unprofessional, uncalled-for and inappropriate, but he couldn't help himself. Sure, maybe having gotten little to no sleep for the past three days and doing the work of his whole department were contributing factors, but that hardly excused his attitude. To make matters worse, NTAC was facing another crisis, one that might make the last one look like a walk in the park.

He'd accidentally stumbled across his emotional pitfall while reviewing the files for the lockdown incident, looking for possible connections to the illness that was sweeping through the returnees. If only he hadn't found out. Sometimes it was difficult to argue with the old saying that ignorance is bliss. It was a stray comment from one of the 4400 about "perverse flirting between Dr. Hudson and that agent with the little girl." Such an observation was obviously subjective. That's what his rational mind pointed out, but instead of letting it pass, he dug deeper. In doing so, he uncovered more evidence that Diana was, indeed, attracted to the handsome doctor who was taking care of Maia. Worse, the physician had risked his life to protect Diana and the other women from the NSA agents and a rampaging Tom. Recalling all Diana, herself, had said about "Max," it was difficult to believe her preoccupation with the head of NTAC medical was purely due to his involvement with Maia's illness. But the backlog of urgent Theory Room work didn't offer any time to deal with it, let alone a chance to talk with her. Besides, what would he say? It wasn't as though she'd thank him for dumping his feelings onto her while her daughter was seriously ill. Considering that his research might somehow uncover a vital lead to the cure, she would likely think he had better uses for his time.

At least, with everyone else in the Theory Room on sick leave or farmed out to other departments or agencies, he had Intel Room 3 to himself. With no new abilities to contend with and all the focus being on NTAC medical, there wasn't as much to do, but there was still just the one of him to do it. Not only did the extra workload keep him distracted, being the only one around meant there was no one upon whom he might lash out. Unfortunately, it also provided him the perfect environment in which to stew over his situation with Diana as well as underscore just how alone he was.

With Ryland back as NTAC's director and the special agents "taken to the field," there had been no need for a morning meeting. That had meant he would probably not see Diana, which had suited him. Just as he'd settled into a round of thought-consuming number crunching, he'd gotten a phone call from Diana, asking for a file she should have had access to, herself. When he'd said as much, she'd insisted he bring it and hung up, doing little good to his mood. Upon his arrival, Diana and Tom had closed their office doors and explained that they had invited the neurochemist Dr. Burkhoff to share his research with NTAC medical, but that Max had refused to reciprocate. They wanted Marco to dig up the files for them.

He'd felt a lot of different things at that moment--satisfaction that Max had proven himself to be unreliable, pride in knowing he was the better man, aggravation at always being the one they expected to do this sort of thing for them, and vexation at the audacity of Diana turning to him when things hadn't gone as she'd hoped they would with Max. Had she really thought every guy would break the law for her just because it was the right thing to do?

Muttering a colorful Italian curse he'd once learned from his cousin, he'd shaken his head and left. Both of them had followed him back to the Theory Room, courting his sense of right and logic. Of course he would do it, but that didn't mean he had to be happy about it.

"This is going to take a while." He settled into his chair. "What should I do with them once I'm done?"

"I'm thinking someone might notice me or Diana dropping something off at The Center." Tom smacked him on the shoulder. It was the second time in as many minutes, and it had been annoying enough the first time. "Can you do it?"

"Sure." Not as though he wouldn't recognize Burkhoff.

"Good."

He heard someone leave, but even without looking, he knew Diana was still there.

"Marco, what's going on with you?" She sounded disgruntled yet worried, but he didn't check to see which was in her eyes. Fatigue was wearing his multitasking skills thin, and getting through the security around the medical files would take concentration.

"You don't want to know." At that moment, he really believed it.

The feeling of her hand on his shoulder caused him to stop and look up. Her gaze was guarded. "I asked, didn't I?" She had never initiated contact before, and it was doing uncomfortable things to his confused psyche. "Is it because we're asking you to do this?" Her voice was quiet, serious.

"Partially."

Tilting her head back, she leaned against his desk and pulled her hand away. It was as though she had taken his heart with it. God, it hurt. "If there was another way..."

"There _was_ another way, but...it didn't work. I'm your backup." With a sigh, he let go of the uncharacteristic snideness in his voice. "Just...try to remember that I said yes while he said no."

That got him a snort. "A surly and reluctant yes."

"But a yes none the less. Look, I don't know about you, but I...I've barely slept since the lockdown." It was a poor excuse for his behavior. She deserved the truth. What did it matter if he told her? "And...well...I'm jealous."

Her eyebrows shot into her bangs. "Jealous?" She said it as though it was ridiculous. "Of who?"

How could she be so oblivious? "Max."

"Because we went to him first?" Both of her hands flew up in frustration. "It only makes sense to go straight to the horse's mouth."

"Not because of that."

Apparently, he'd conveyed enough with his tone and expression that he didn't have to spell it out, because she looked away and discovered a sudden fascination with a hangnail. She didn't wear nail polish, not even clear. It was one of the countless little details he loved about her. As she fussed with her cuticle, her mouth opened and shut a few times until she finally found the words she wanted to say. "Marco, I...now is not the best time for me."

"I know. I'm sorry. You asked."

Gazing out the office window into the empty corridor with a resigned smile, she nodded. "I did." She laughed at herself. "I guess, sometimes, ignorance really is bliss."

When it came to personal matters, Diana was not always the most articulate person, and, with him, she had a tendency to not say what she meant. So he didn't know how to interpret what she'd said. "Diana..."

"I don't mean to use you. I just..." Her shoulders swiveled in an unconscious expression of her discomfort. "With Maia so sick..." It was an even mix of desperation, frustration and helplessness.

After having been buried under the less pleasant emotions that had been dominating him, lately, the sudden surge of empathy that washed through him was refreshing, if not wholly welcome. "I'm worried about her, too." That got her to look at him. He'd revealed enough; it would be better for her if they fell back on their more detached, professional relationship. "But you're distracting me from accessing those files, and the sooner I do..." It would be better for him to stick to professional mode, too, no matter how difficult it might be.

"Right." With a shove, she straightened. "I'll see you later."

"Yeah."

A few moments after hearing the door close behind him, he reached for his antacids and tapped one into his hand. With no one else there, he hadn't been bothering to keep the bottle in a drawer. Washing it down with some water, he tried to ignore the chalky texture and fake, fruity flavor in order to focus on the task at hand. There were two ways he could break into the database--the careful way, which would take hours for him to cover his tracks, or the brute force method, which would take a fraction of the time but reveal himself to any decent hacker who might investigate the matter. Given the stakes, he went with reckless. It wasn't as though he'd be the only one to go down if this blew up in their faces, and as much as he might like his job, he had to admit that he really wouldn't want to work at NTAC without Diana and Tom.

Starting up his classical music selection to help soothe and inspire him, he shut out everything else and got to work.


	12. Acceptance

NOTES: I've already covered the delightfully shippy ending of this episode in great detail elsewhere, so I didn't feel I should here. Despite having something that big happen for these two, this one was really difficult. In Marco's first scene, he was less bristly than the one from the preceding episode, but there was no real hint of deeper emotions, which, given the circumstances, I think there should have been. So, instead of using existing scenes as a springboard for this one, though I did try to make it fit in, I kinda did what I wanted and thought made sense. I hope you all don't mind. Thank you for the beta, PurpleYin!

SPOILERS: through Mommy's Bosses

DISCLAIMER: _The 4400_ and all things associated with it belong to other people.

* * *

TWELVE STEPS 

STEP 12: ACCEPTANCE

Max was dead.

Marco was amazed how hard that knowledge hit him. He had to lean against Mick O'Donnell's desk, or his suddenly weakened legs might have dropped him to the floor.

"You okay, Marco?"

Looking up, he blinked at the older agent but didn't really see him. "All those people..." he managed to say, but his mind was whirling through the countless ramifications. "I...I haven't been getting a lot of sleep." That was a reasonable excuse.

"Singing to the choir." Mick gave a disgruntled huff and ran a hand through his short, reddish hair. The grey at his temples seemed to have doubled over the last week. "I can't believe they're having us round them up like sheep. Being a part of it just..."

"Yeah..." He needed a moment to get his bearings. "I...think I could use some water."

"I'll get some. You just take it easy for a minute."

The report on Mick's desk said the initial findings indicated the bullet that killed Max had been self-inflicted. Marco couldn't help but think there was more to it than that. Only someone completely lacking in moral and mental mettle would consider taking their own life when the lives of so many others were depending on them...or when Diana was interested in them. Based on what she had said, Max was not such a man. But, behind Marco's suspicion and antipathy lay relief that his rival was dead along with fear for his own life, both of which made him disgusted with himself.

If Max had been murdered, given that it had happened at a secured, military facility and had been made to look like a suicide, someone high-up had to be responsible. There had been no evidence that anyone had noticed NTAC's medical database had been hacked or that anyone was aware he had delivered classified medical records to Dr. Burkhoff, but that didn't mean anything. If governmental bigwigs had killed the man who had created the promicin inhibitor, wasn't it possible they might also kill anyone who had discovered the deadly truth about it?

That meant Diana, Tom and Burkhoff, not just himself. A day ago, Tom had slipped him a note about having encouraged Burkhoff to hide--with the modern monitoring focus on phone tapping and email surveillance, handwritten messages were often the most secure means of communicating--but NTAC's top two agents were still out in the open. Pulling out his cell phone, Marco tried to call Diana but couldn't get through. He felt a momentary spike of panic before he realized she was probably in the part of her drive to work that had patchy reception. So he tried Tom, instead.

"Marco?" Crises might come and go, but it seemed Tom would be forever surly.

"You hear about Hudson?"

"He found a cure?" His excited tone made Marco regret what he had to tell him.

"He's dead."

"_What?_ How?"

"Bullet in the head. They think the pressure got to him." Marco nodded in greeting to a passing agent; the trailing scent of coffee soothed his unhappy stomach.

Tom let loose an exuberant string of curses.

"My thoughts, exactly. Look, I'm concerned about..." How to phrase it so it didn't sound like what it was? "...the implications this might have for the people familiar with his work."

"You think others who know about it might succumb to the pressure?" That was an interesting way of putting it.

"Yeah." Across the room, at the water cooler, Mick had become caught up in an animated discussion with Charlie Finn, NTAC's other male redhead, so Marco didn't have to rush his conversation. "I figured you should know as soon as possible."

"Have you told Diana?"

"I couldn't get through, but that's normal this time of the morning."

"You know her schedule that well?" Surprise mixed with taunting incredulity.

Giving Charlie a pat on the shoulder, Mick headed back to his desk, water cup in hand.

"Look, I've got to go. I'll be in the basement if you need anything."

"Are you sure you'll be okay down there by yourself?"

He was startled by the implication that Tom was concerned for his well being. "I'm not even field rated." Only field-rated agents had guns. "So I'm not under the same kind of stress as you guys. Besides, you can't realistically play the same card twice." It was a somewhat awkward analogy, but it worked. "The Theory Room's probably the best place I can be right now."

"When you put it that way..."

"Just...don't let the pressure get to you, okay? ...either of you."

"We won't."

"Gotta go."

He hung up just as Mick arrived. Shaking his head, the older man handed Marco a cup of water. "Charlie and Sue had to drag in a woman in her sixties yesterday."

After taking a grateful draught, Marco asked, "Did you hear about the two families that were taken with the last safehouse raid?"

Mick shook his head, his gaze curious but anxious.

"One returnee was a girl; her parents have been taken into custody. The other was a mother. Her husband has been locked up and the kids have been put in foster care."

Slumping defeatedly into his chair, Mick swore softly. "I don't know how much more of this I can take."

"Have you considered going on vacation?" Marco had. He hadn't taken a day off since NTAC had been founded and, combined with all his OT, had accumulated enough for a month off. If only he could use it!

Mick gave him a calculating look. "NTAC's been undermanned since the lockdown. You know how hard it's been."

"As the only person in my department, yes, I do." Marco nodded his agreement.

"So how can you suggest that at a time like this?"

He shrugged. "How can you keep doing this when you know it's wrong? If you weren't here..."

Leaning forward to rest his elbows on his desk, Mick's expression became one of grandfatherly wisdom. As one of the two field agents with grandchildren, he was entitled to it. "Have you ever done anything you're ashamed of?"

"Sure." Not that he intended to elaborate.

"And how long have you been working for the government?"

"Including the DHS? Four years."

"Well, maybe, after you've got a few more years under your belt, you'll appreciate one shameful event does not define the whole of an organization anymore than one shameful incident defines the whole of who you are."

"I get that," he nodded. "But I don't get how you can rationalize your participation in doing something you feel is wrong."

Mick spread his hands in an encompassing gesture. "What happened when the NSA guys came and that rage bomb went off?"

"They went after the 4400."

"That's because they weren't NTAC. They didn't know or understand the 4400. To them, they're a threat. To us, they're people." Energetic gestures emphasized his points. "Because I don't like what I have to do, I'll treat them with as much care and respect and dignity as I can. If I take off, some guy from another agency will fill my place, and there's no knowing how he might treat them. The only way I can make sure the harm done is as minimal as possible is by being here and doing my job."

The lively lecture had drawn a small crowd, eliciting nods and resigned smiles from some. Charlie's partner was near tears.

"Look alive, people." Charlie nodded toward the main entrance. "Here comes Ryland and...is that Jarvis?"

With his recent discovery of Ryland's darker side, Marco was more than happy to see Nina back at work, but he preferred to avoid them both, if possible. Despite being the best player in the Theory Room, he didn't want to test his poker face against his bosses, and unlike Ryland, Nina actually kept track of her "brains in the basement." Out of sight, out of mind was the best bet. Hopefully she'd be too busy to visit him in person.

"Back to work," agreed Mick.

Returning his gaze to the older man, Marco smiled grimly. "I get it, now."

"Good." He nodded with satisfaction.

"Thanks for the water."

"Sure thing. See you later, Marco."

With a wave, he shoved off the older man's desk and headed for the elevator.

Once ensconced in the quiet sanctity of the deserted Theory Room, Marco discovered, with NTAC's focus now on rounding up the missing returnees, there was nothing urgent for him to deal with. So he decided to do some tinkering. A shipment of hardware upgrades had come in more than a week earlier, but he hadn't had time to deal with it. One advantage to being the only one in the office was that he wouldn't have to deal with the inevitable gripes from the others when implementing the upgrades would force them to share computers during the process.

While clearing off his desk and the central table in preparation, he came across the photos from the Jean Baker case. They had recently been brought out because someone had speculated there might be a connection with between Baker's virus and the 4400s' illness. The pictures including the ones he'd snapped of Diana. She was so beautiful, with her dark curls and squinty smile and bright, intelligent eyes. She was brave and smart, dedicated to her job and devoted to her child. He loved almost everything about her, except that she didn't return his deepest feelings. But that was just one part of her; it didn't define the whole of who she was. At some point, he'd need to accept that, no matter his own wishful aspirations. Just because Max was dead and had turned out to be an instrument of Maia's illness didn't mean Diana would suddenly espouse some secret infatuation with her favorite Theory Room geek. In the meantime, he'd have to deal with it as best he could because, whether he felt jilted or not, she needed his support.

After putting the file of photos in the appropriate cabinet, he unhooked Lee's computer, hefted it onto his desk and began unscrewing the side.

Just as he started on Brady's, he got a call.

"Hey, Marco." His heart skipped a beat just to hear her voice, to know nothing had happened to her on her drive to work. She sounded as though it were just another day, but there was a forced quality to her voice. He knew Max's death and Maia's illness had to be weighing heavily on her. "Tom and I need to run some things past you. You busy?"

If he had to see her, he'd rather it be alone so he might talk more freely than he would in front of Tom, but maybe it was best for both of them to have Tom around.

"Nah. And I just started a fresh pot of coffee."

"We've got a few boxes..."

"I just cleared off the table."

"Great. See you in a few minutes."

"Sure."

Putting down the receiver, he drew a deep breath then let it out slowly. There were thousands of people's lives at stake. He had done all he could do to help them, and it was not enough. He had done all he could do for the woman he loved, and it was not enough. How could he feel anything but frustrated and thwarted? But as difficult as his personal and professional feelings of inadequacy might be to avoid, they were completely irrelevant in the bigger scheme of things. What mattered now was minimizing the damage, dealing with things as best as he could. If that meant he was good for nothing more than some office space where Diana and Tom could hash things out in private, then so be it. All he had to do was try to act as normal as possible, under the circumstances, and keep out of their way. It might not be particularly easy, but it wouldn't be forever.

One way or another, it would all be over in a few days.


End file.
